


Turn Down or Else

by Twice_Shy (notboldly)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, College Student Stiles, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fancy Beer, M/M, Matt is creepy in every universe, Nurse Derek Hale, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/Twice_Shy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one thing Derek hated about living in a twin home, it was the knowledge that his obnoxiously loud neighbor was only a thin wall away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Down or Else

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Newtmastical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtmastical/gifts).



After spending the majority of his adult life immersed in the city, Derek was understandably hesitant about moving to the suburbs. The way the idea was sold to him—privacy, quiet, his own "charming" sister sharing the adjoining townhouse—made it sound like paradise, but he refused to be fooled by an easy sales pitch. He'd known about Laura's tendency towards exaggeration since they were toddlers, and Derek wouldn't have put it past her to convince him to buy a fixer-upper while claiming that it was a well-furnished mansion. Because she _was_ his sister and current roommate, however, he agreed to check the place out anyway, fully prepared to walk away if need be.

To his eternal surprise, this didn't turn out to be the case. Both her townhouse and his were in wonderful condition, connected at one garage and newly remodeled, and the neighborhood was nice, maybe even too nice for a pair of siblings who'd made it through college at the whim of the financial aid department. Derek knew a good deal when he saw it, and with Laura's eager encouragement, they made a generous offer on both townhouses later that week. After some quick work to round up the money for the deposit and inspection, they all but flew through the closing paperwork, and Derek was even excited about it towards the end. A space of his own, with his best friend nearby for life: he couldn't imagine a better future.

Predictably, it was only once he had his house keys in hand that Laura told him the catch.

"I'm going to be out of the country for business soon," she said, expression sheepish as she stood in his bare foyer. He hadn't even had a chance to move his furniture in yet. "So I've decided to rent my place out to a couple of college kids, starting early August. Just for a while, Derek."

The way she said it—quickly and with a too-casual air—made the news sound immediately worse, and that was a difficult feat. _College students_. For fuck's sake.

"How long is 'a while,' Laura?"

"No longer than a year, probably."

"Laura."

"I know, I know." She held up her hands in a placating gesture. "They just sprung it on me too. Apparently, the Taiwan office could use a fresh eye, and I was chosen to head up the team."

Although she was obviously trying to hide it, Laura was jittering with excitement as she spoke. Derek couldn't begrudge her that; she'd worked hard for almost ten years to get that marketing position, and she deserved the opportunity to succeed. Derek was proud of her, even if the timing was…inconvenient.

"Congratulations; you'll do great." She beamed at him. "I'll take care of this—" He gestured behind him, to his garage and her house. "—while you're gone. Just…not too long, okay?"

She nodded eagerly enough, and that was that. Derek tried not to worry about it.

After all, Derek had lived in an apartment for almost six years, and he'd had neighbors before. It would be fine.

***

It was not fine. Or, more accurately, it was fine for about a week and a half.

Derek met his neighbors on their second day in the neighborhood, and their first impression, while not stellar, was good enough that Derek considered them harmless. Scott seemed like a nice young man, if a little too distracted by someone he was having an intensive text conversation with, and while Stiles talked faster than almost anyone Derek had ever met and stared at Derek for an uncomfortably long time, it was clear he was more likely to talk himself to exhaustion than burn their conjoined houses down. Derek grunted out a hello and went about his business tending to the seedlings in his garden, which might've been a little rude, but he was on a schedule.

A week later, Scott and Stiles had their first college party, and Derek had to revise his initial opinion: they weren't harmless, they were _loud_. Their music shook the walls, vibrated in the concrete foundation, and Derek couldn't escape it. He was no stranger to noise at ridiculous times of the day and night, but it was somehow worse in the suburbs; without the sounds of the city to drown it out, Derek had no choice but to listen to keg parties and beer pong and all-night video game marathons. It was a miracle no one in the neighborhood had called the cops that first night, and then it happened again and again, always on nights when Derek had an early morning shift the following day.

By the fourth party in three weeks, Derek's patience had run out. After two hours of trying to fall asleep only to be continuously startled awake by the music next door, Derek angrily pulled on a pair of pants and marched out of his house. The winter air was biting against his bare skin, but the chill did little to cool his head during the short trip across the driveway. When he knocked on their front door, it was harder than it probably should've been, and he wondered which of his two _neighbors_ heard it first. If Scott came to the door, there was a chance of holding his temper; Scott was still relatively nice every time Derek reluctantly spoke to him, and he would probably turn the music down. Stiles, however, seemed to have a personal problem with Derek, and there was a chance he might say no just to spite him.

The door opened, and naturally, there was Stiles, wearing a backwards ball cap and windbreaker and looking every inch the obnoxious college student.

"Uh. Can I help you?" He gave an exaggerated look of surprise, like he'd never seen Derek before in his life.

"Could you turn the music down," Derek bit out before he remembered his manners. "Please. I'm trying to sleep."

"Aw, man. Dude, do you _have_ to be such a buzzkill?" Stiles looked extremely put out, and Derek felt a very small twinge of guilt. Miniscule, practically.

The bass continued to pound, causing something to rattle off one of the shelves in his garage, and the guilt disappeared.

"I'm not a buzzkill," he said firmly, ignoring Stiles's snort of blatant disbelief. "Some of us have to work tomorrow, and your stupid music is about to make my ears start bleeding."

"Please." Stiles rolled his eyes, and Derek wanted to strangle him. "It's not that bad, grandpa. Turn your hearing aid down, and you'll be good to go."

Scratch that—Derek _was_ going to strangle him. His fingers were itching to do so, but as much as the urge was there, he didn't think he could bring himself to murder his neighbor at two in the morning. Too much paperwork.

"I'll call the cops," he warned instead, but Stiles didn't look discouraged at all. If anything, his eyes burned with unholy glee. "I mean it."

Stiles beamed at him.

"Sure thing, buddy. You do that."

Without another word, Stiles took a huge step back and slammed the door in his face. The music inside, if anything, only got louder.

***

Derek called the cops when he returned to his house, just as he'd said he would, but since it was a Friday night and the only emergency was the very real risk of hearing loss, he didn't think they'd be showing up immediately to deal with the noise. Derek resigned himself to being tired the next day, and he fully intended to call his HOA when he got home from work; he probably should've done it weeks ago, but he'd foolishly hesitated, remembering his own college years. Derek wondered when he'd gotten so old that too loud music and cheap beer was cause for nostalgia, and then he felt ridiculously annoyed at himself; he wasn't even thirty, for fuck's sake, but apparently all it took for him to feel like he had one foot in the grave was some college kid calling him "grandpa." Laura would be having a field day with this, and the thought made him sad; Laura was two continents away, so it wasn't like he could even call her when he couldn't sleep.

With no other options, Derek turned on the TV, intending to watch the home shopping channel until he fell asleep out of boredom. He was surprised, then, when there was a knock on his door not twenty minutes later. Derek reflexively hit mute and went to answer it; apparently, the police had made good time after all.

He was halfway there before he realized the knock had been on the door near his _patio_ rather than his front door, and when Derek swung the door open, he wasn't surprised to see Stiles standing there, shivering despite his cap and windbreaker.

Derek leaned his forehead against the door frame and sighed, resisting the impulse to invite him in for politeness's sake; he was too _tired_ for this.

"What. What do you want."

Stiles looked at him leaning so heavily against the wall, and his expression turned almost remorseful. It barely helped Derek's mood at all.

"Scott told me I was being a jerk, so I, uh, turned the music down. In case you were wondering why you couldn't hear it anymore."

Derek hadn't noticed, honestly, but then, he'd been halfway to buying a ridiculously expensive ladder that could hold six people. His brain was probably dribbling out his ears.

"Thanks. Now go away."

"What, you're not going to slam the door in my face?" Stiles said, lips twitching. He was clearly trying to make a joke, but Derek refused to play along. Instead, he glared at him with all the force of someone running on only two hours of sleep.

"My parents raised me better than that."

Stiles winced.

"Yeah, that's fair." Stiles made a motion like he was going to run his hand through his hair, but he was stopped by his hat. "Look, can I just apologize? I didn't mean to—okay, no, I _did_ , but you were totally a jerk to me first! Like, since we moved in!"

Derek's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "That's an apology?"

"No, but I'm getting to it." Stiles took a deep breath, looking annoyed but determined. "Look, even if you've been a total twat about me and Scott being in your precious six figure neighborhood, I still shouldn't have been goading you deliberately. So, can we call a truce, or something?"

There were a lot of things Derek could say to that, he knew, but only one would let him close the door and get a night's sleep without guilt.

"Sure." Stiles opened his mouth to say something else in response, but Derek didn't let him continue. If he had to hear one more word about his perceived snobbery, Derek was liable to donate half his clothes to Goodwill, or something. "And it's not just my neighborhood. You're living in my sister's house. I mean, she's renting it to you."

Stiles went gratifyingly pale.

"Really?" he asked weakly, and Derek nodded.

"Really." There were a lot of things Derek could say to that, some meaner than others, but he didn't have the energy for any of them. "Just…mind the volume, okay?"

Stiles nodded vigorously and saluted him, and it was a little funny. Maybe.

"Got it. Quiet as a church mouse, I swear." He bit his lip, but it didn't completely hide his smile when he waved goodbye. "Goodnight, man. Thanks for being cool." And, without another word, he jogged over and hopped the fence separating their yards. His landing was…less than graceful, and he disappeared out of sight with a squawk. Tripped, then. 

Derek laughed quietly to himself as he closed the door, and he grabbed his phone off the counter on the way back to the couch. If Stiles was going to take the initiative to apologize, Derek probably shouldn't get him fined.

***

Derek saw both Stiles and Scott more after that, although it was still mostly in passing. It was an inevitable sort of thing borne of misdelivered mail and sharing a backyard divided in two, but Derek nonetheless found himself getting used to it once the parties tapered off into a monthly event that were now always respectfully quiet. For some reason, though, he was still surprised when—five months into their lease—he realized he actually _liked_ Stiles, probably more than was justifiable as neighbors. Despite his attempts at keeping to himself, he almost missed it when Stiles stayed out for the night and there were no sounds of him moving on the other side of the garage, and he definitely missed it when Stiles wasn't there to yell jokes over the fence while Derek was tending to his lawn. He was funny, clever in a way that made him exciting, and when he wasn't dressed like he'd fallen out of a high school sports movie, he was almost…cute. They got along and liked each other, friendly at least, and that was something of a miracle, considering Derek's track record.

It was a surprise, then, when Derek returned from his shift on Christmas Eve to find the music next door back and louder than ever. He didn't even bother to change out of his scrubs before heading to the patio and delivering a swift knock to the white paneled wood. The sound was, he hoped, loud enough to break through a drunken haze.

"Stiles? Scott?" There was no immediate response to be heard, and he knocked louder, wondering if he should go back for his key. Laura had given it to him before she left, just in case of emergencies, but it had seemed too invasive to use when his neighbor wasn't his sister. 

He was a second from turning around and fetching his key anyway when the door opened to a Stiles who looked completely sober and not at all surprised to see him. 

In fact, he almost looked relieved.

"Derek, there you are! I was wondering if you were coming over; did you forget what time the party started?"

Derek opened his mouth to reply but was startled into silence by Stiles leaning into his space and kissing his cheek. If he'd been confused before, he was baffled now, and it only got worse the longer Stiles lingered.

"I'm so sorry about this," he thought he heard Stiles say against his skin, but he couldn't be sure over the music. When Stiles pulled back, it was with an almost manic grin on his face, and then he grabbed Derek's hand.

"Come on, boo, I'll introduce you to the gang."

 _Boo_? Derek wasn't so old that he didn't know what that meant, but he was pretty sure he'd remember if he and Stiles were dating. He didn't say anything, however, because Stiles's hand was slick with sweat, his grip tight enough to hurt. He was nervous, _panicked_ , and Derek wanted to know why.

"Okay," he said quietly, and the look Stiles shot him was surprised but grateful. "Lead the way."

Stiles did, tugging him through the throng of people nearest to the door. They'd almost certainly been eavesdropping, which explained the act, but it didn't explain why Stiles kept hold of his hand even after they passed through the crowd.

A minute later, Stiles led him to a man sitting in the far corner of the living room, and Derek had his explanation.

"Derek, this is Matt. Matt, this is Derek, my boyfriend."

Matt seemed pleasant but uninterested until Stiles finished the introduction, and then his face spasmed with something dark. It put Derek on edge, all his instincts telling him that this was one creepy kid.

"Your boyfriend? No bullshit, Stilinski." He sounded skeptical and mocking, and Derek got the picture.

"No bullshit," Derek confirmed, and this time, it was his turn to lean over and give Stiles an appropriately boyfriend-like peck on the cheek. Stiles made a startled sound in response, but it was thankfully drowned out by the pounding bass and crackling speakers nearby. When he pulled back, Matt looked angry, and he quickly excused himself and left the room.

Almost immediately, Stiles sagged in relief against Derek's shoulder.

"Let me guess," Derek said quietly, just for the two of them. "A bad ex?"

"No way. Matt's this creep who used to stalk a friend of mine in high school, and then apparently decided to switch focus to me in college. He didn't believe me when I said I had a boyfriend." Stiles smiled at him, expression a little pained. "Thanks for falling on the grenade for that one, by the way. You're like the most intimidating guy I know, even when wearing scrubs with bunnies on them."

"I just got home," Derek said, a little defensively. "I'm an APRN in the Pediatrics wing, and kids love bunnies. Give me a break."

"Hey, dude, not complaining. Just…thanks, that's all. You saved my bacon."

"For now." Derek sighed; Stiles might've only made things worse with this act. "You should really call the cops. File a report, at least."

"Yeah, I know." Stiles squeezed his hand once before letting go. "I'll do it in the morning. You want a beer? Since you're here."

Derek shrugged. 

"That depends. Are you offering me shitty college beer, or actually good beer?"

Stiles snorted, his expression fond. They'd had this conversation once before, shouted over a white picket fence.

"Don't worry, Mr. Beer Snob. I have a couple fancy beers in the fridge."

Stiles led the way to the fridge and cracked the door, his body neatly blocking the contents inside. There was the pop and hiss of an opened bottle, and when he straightened, Derek saw that the bottle was labeled Morning Wood. Derek gave him a flat look in response, but reluctantly accepted it when Stiles held it out. He looked pointedly at the label.

"Really, Stiles? Really?"

Stiles shot him a grin.

"What? A friend of mine picked them up in Florida. I was saving them for you." His expression went pinched, and he backtracked immediately. "I mean, not _for_ you. That would be weird, since you've never been over here before." He scrubbed a hand over his buzz cut. Oddly, he still seemed nervous. "Well. How is it?"

Derek obediently took a sip. It was interesting, layers of coffee and maple, but smooth and smoky and pleasant.

"Good." Derek took another sip, long and slow. "Best morning wood I've ever had, definitely."

Stiles's face turned bright red immediately, and he choked on nothing. 

By the time he recovered, Derek was grinning behind the neck of the bottle. He couldn't help it.

"Well, I'm happy to help fix that," Stiles said, with a comical waggle of his eyebrows. "Any time."

It was Derek's turn to flush in response, and when Stiles laughed, he felt warm, pleased. He couldn't remember the last time he'd flirted with someone he actually liked, or the last time anyone had looked at him quite like Stiles was right then, sweet and genuine. It was nice.

Derek took another sip of his beer, stalling for time to find the right words.

"Well, why don't we start with numbers first. That way, you can just call me the next time you need a boyfriend."

"So…tomorrow?"

Derek smiled.

"Sure. Tomorrow."

***

END

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Sterek Secret Valentine 2016 exchange ](http://sterekvalentine2016.tumblr.com/), specifically for [Newtmastical.](http://newtmastical.tumblr.com/) It was fun to write; I love fake dating stories, always have.
> 
> Feedback is very welcome, and I hope you all enjoyed; come visit me on [Tumblr](http://notboldly.tumblr.com) if you want!


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